He would never help a Gryffindor
by Ebenbild
Summary: It is the fifths year. A boy is late for Defence against the Dark Arts. What will happen to him when he comes late for Umbridge's class? Is there a way to escape the punishment with the blood quill?


_**Disclaimer: **__ Harry Potter and his universe belongs to JK Rowling. I promise to return the characters unharmed after I played a little bit with them._

_**Information: **__The story takes place in the middle of the fifths year. I did not make up any OC or different plot, just telling a scene that (maybe) could have happened (or not xD)_

_I'm not a native speaker so sorry for my mistakes._

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_**He would never help a Gryffindor**_

There was one no-go this year that no-one would consider to break. There was one thing that no-one would dare to do.

It was his fifths year in Hogwarts, the school of witchcraft and wizardry. The last five years, they had every year another teacher in Defence against the Dark Arts. First it had been a nervous and stammering one, then it had been a peacock. The teacher after that one had been all right – except that he was a werewolf and the other parents didn't approve that. The next one had been an Unforgivable using, Auror pretending, paranoid Death Eater. And the last one… was her.

She was the reason for the biggest no-go this year.

She was the one teacher that seemed to be in absolute control in school. Even the headmaster himself was unable to go against her rules. And she had a lot of them. There were no clubs except she allowed them. There were no visits to Hogsmead except she approved them. There was no going anywhere except she allowed it. And she was not human enough to be soft with anyone, unless she liked one. Of course she didn't like a lot of people.

And of course she didn't like any Gryffindor.

So, breaking one of her rules was bad. Breaking one of her rules, so that she would know it, was worse. But being a Gryffindor while breaking one of her rules, so that she would know it, was definitely worst.

Unfortunately he was a Gryffindor while breaking one of her rules. And regrettably she would know of his rule breaking in the next few minutes.

"I'm going to have detention tonight" he gasped while running through the floors of the old stone castle. "I'm definitely in for detention."

Nothing to look forward. He knew of the blood quill she used on the students. He had used it before. But it was worse now than before. Before they just had to write one hour, now they had to write 'till she was satisfied.

And today he was in for detention.

"Why?" he asked himself, but the question was just a rhetorical one. He knew why. He had gone to lunch without his textbook for DADA. Being without book meant detention. So he had been running back to Gryffindor tower to fetch his book. But now he was late for DADA class. And being late for class meant detention.

"I'll be dead" a voice in his head chanted. "I'll be dead, dead, dead."

And he knew he was right with his prediction. She would not let him stay alive. When he would survive her treatment in class, he would be killed in detention… or he would die from blood loss after detention…

He speeded up. He knew he shouldn't run through the corridors, he knew. But having a choice between being late and being in trouble for running in the corridors, running was the better choice.

So he ran.

He ran as if Voldemort himself was running after him.

He could not be late! He could not!

There was still a minute left. A minute and three corridors. He stopped at the stairs, jumped them down, nearly fell before running along the next corridor. Fifteen seconds and two corridors.

"I'm dead. Dead as a doornail…"

He reached the next stairs. But he missed the bend. He stumbled across the first step. One moment it felt like the time stopped. Then in felt like flying.

He had no chance.

He flailed his arms, tried to catch himself but was unable to. Just when he started falling, there was a hand to catch him.

"Longbottom!" a voice behind him snarled. "Is there a place in your head where a single cell lives?!"

He flinched. On the one side he was glad that someone had caught him before he fell down the stairs, on the other side he was terrified of the person who caught him.

"P… Professor S… Snape" he stuttered.

"What are you doing here, Longbottom?! Shouldn't you be in class?!" the professor barked.

"I'm on the way, Sir" he answered, too terrified to say anything more.

"On the way" Snape growled. "On the way where to?"

"D… Defence a… against the Dark Arts, Sir" he answered.

"Defence… are you? Aren't you rather skipping class now?"

"Am not" he answered while a chill was running down his back.

"That would be: _no, Sir,_ Longbottom!"

"Yessir, I meant: No, Sir" he repeated, hating his professor for taking his time.

"Then why are you still in the corridors, Longbottom? Class started a minute ago." The question was asked with the typical sneer that showed every student in school that whatever they would say, the potion master wouldn't believe it. The potion master wouldn't even consider to believe it.

"I forgot my textbook in the dorm" he still answered hoping against all hope that the teacher in front of him would have a heart.

"You forgot your textbook" he had been right. No sign of considering that he hadn't been lying. For a moment he just thought about saying nothing, then he reconsidered his choices. "Please, Professor! I will be really late now! I'll do everything you want for detention but let me run now, Sir!"

"Run, Longbottom?" the teacher answered in a dangerous ton. "Haven't you been running enough? Do you perhaps want to fall down the stairs?"

"No, Sir! But, please…" he knew he was begging. And he knew that the teacher in front of him had a heart of ice. But he couldn't stop himself from begging.

"I'm not your Head of House, Longbottom" Snape snapped. "I shall not cuddle you while you did something wrong."

"Of course not" he thought bitterly after the teachers words. "You would never help a Gryffindor."

"Please, professor" he tried anyway. "I'll be late for class when I don't hurry…"

"Somehow or other you'll be late now, Longbottom." The teacher answered sneering with the truth dripping of his voice. "A few minutes more or less won't do anything."

He knew, Snape was wrong, but he wouldn't dare to veto.

"_Yessir_", he said, gritting his teeth while speaking. Every minute he would stay here would prolong his detention with _her_. Of course that was nothing the professor in front of him was taking account of. And even if the potion master would consider it, he wouldn't do anything different.

Normally the potion master and the Defence teacher had nothing in common. But there was one thing they both thought of the same way: Gryffindor were the last of their favourites. While they would help everyone, there would be no way that they would ever think of helping a Gryffindor. And unfortunately he was a Gryffindor, nonetheless one of the last favourite ones of the potion master. So getting help from said professor was absolutely out of question…

"So let us talk about the time for your detention, Longbottom" Snape smirked. "You shall come tonight at o'clock to my office."

"Yessir."

"Now, go!"

He did like he was told. His mind was full of blood quills and scrubbing cauldrons with injured hands. This would turn out to be the hell on earth…

He started running again.

"Two detention" he whispered nearly crying. Snape's wasn't too bad but _hers… _that was a different matter.

"Two detention. And one sure 'till after midnight and with a lot of blood loss. I'll be definitely dead."

And there was nothing to do about…

All he could do was running and hoping to catch up with the lost time. Maybe when he would speed up even more he would still just be five or six minutes late instead of ten. Except he would be caught again by a different teacher while on his way there…

"Longbottom!" he stopped when he heard the snarl behind him. He shouldn't have start running while still in plain sight of the professor… "What do you think you are doing?!"

"Heading for class, Sir?" he answered nervously.

"Are you, Longbottom?" the teacher smirked coolly.

"Sir?"

"You're definitely dense, Longbottom."

"Sir?" he asked cautious. Would he get another detention. He knew Snape. There was no way to escape his claws.

"Dense, Longbottom – don't you know some simple words?"

"I… I don't understand, Sir…"

The teacher sighted, then he pulled his wand out of his sleeve. Without a word and just a flick of his wand he conjured a parchment and a quill. Then he wrote something on the parchment before the quill vanished again in thin air.

"You forgot something, Longbottom" Snape sneered and handed him the parchment. "And don't forget: you have detention tonight."

With these words the teacher left.

Neville however blinked and starred at the parchment in his hands. There were just a few words written on it, but he had never seen something more unbelievable in his whole life…

"_To Professor Dolores Umbridge. _

_Excuse for being twenty minutes late for Mr Neville Longbottom. _

_Mr Longbottom had to help me with some potion ingredients._

_Sincerely_

_Professor S. Snape"_

There was no way anyone would ever believe him that Snape had made up an excuse for him…

_Fin._

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_So, what do you think. Can you please review? I'm unable to improve my writing when I don't know the problems and mistakes…_


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